


Matchmaker

by daroh



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, But it's okay, Dirty Talk, Endgame Merlin/Arthur, Fantasizing, Gwaine loves Merlin and Arthur, Gwaine loves Merlin especially, M/M, Multi, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, everyone likes Gwaine, wanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:31:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/pseuds/daroh
Summary: Gwaine decides it's time for drastic yet pleasurable measures to get Merlin and Arthur together.





	Matchmaker

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted to write some smut. I also love Gwaine being in love with Merlin but accepting of Merlin/Arthur as destiny. I also like Arthur and Gwaine having a more complicated relationship than just antagonists for Merlin's affection, so I was getting at a little of that in the beginning. 
> 
> Anyway, this was just meant to be hot (hopefully?) and make me feel like I can maybe write something without spending 70 million hours revising it. (I'll probably regret posting this but what else are PWPs for? lol)

“Quit looking at my manservant like you’d like to have him for lunch.”

“I’d like to have him for a lot of things,” Gwaine says, sliding a long blade of grass between his teeth and gazing at Merlin, who is beyond earshot, setting up camp.

Arthur looks at him sternly, but to no effect.

“Don’t worry, Princess. It’s not like he’ll have me.”

“Oh, yeah? And why is that.” Arthur tries to sound nonchalant, but he knows the tension in his voice, in his whole body, is evident.

Gwaine smiles, as if to put Arthur at ease, but it has the opposite effect. “You know perfectly well why not.”

Just then, they notice Merlin looking over at them. Arthur worries he’s heard them, but the guilty look on Merlin’s face seems more related to how long it's taking him to light a simple fire.

Arthur shifts his gaze, hoping to find something in the distance that looks fascinating.

He doesn’t.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gwaine leans closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Of course you do. You know he’s only got eyes for you, and a prick and an arse and a mouth for that matter, that mouth that _gods_ know how you resist every night when he’s undressing you—”

“Stop.”

“How hard is it not to just give in with him kneeling in front of you, knowing he’s just gagging for it and all you need do—”

“Gwaine. I mean it.”

“And all you need do would be—”

Arthur tackles him, pinning him to the ground, breathing through his teeth.

“Oh, yes, I think something like this would do the trick,” Gwaine says, pressing his thigh up between Arthur’s legs.

Arthur shakes Gwaine, uses his own legs to pin Gwaine’s down. “I said stop it! You’ve no right to talk about him like that—or me or anyone. Why would you even do this?”

“I wasn’t doing anything, just enjoying the view. You decided that even that should be off limits to me.”

“It should be. You have no respect for any—”

“You’re wrong, Princess. I respect Merlin more than anyone in the world. More than you, even.”

“That’s not saying a lot. You don’t respect me at all.”

“You’re wrong,” Gwaine says again, too earnest for the moment. He gazes up at Arthur, his eyes looking strangely vulnerable, beautiful, even, where Arthur has only ever seen them guarded or probing.

Arthur’s grip slackens, along with his expression. He takes in Gwaine’s features carefully, his eyes, his forehead and cheeks with the small scars from battles and bar brawls, some even fought for Arthur—hell, some for Arthur before they’d even really met, and some for him after he’d been banished from the kingdom. He looks at Gwaine's mouth, no longer busy with grass blades or smugness, just a soft uncertain question on his lips.

Abruptly, Arthur sits up, leans back on his heels and looks at where Merlin is, sitting next to his little campfire in the twilight, watching them. He turns back to his fire, though, when Arthur looks at him.

“What are you getting at, Gwaine?” he asks.

“Nothing. I’m not getting at anything. I was just hoping you finally would, one way or another.”

Gwaine gets up and walks towards Merlin. Arthur stays back for a while, but follows soon after.

They eat the stew Merlin makes. Gwaine lays out their bedrolls while Merlin rinses the plates and Arthur ties their supplies in a tree.

When it is dark and they are finally tucked into their blankets, the only sound is the crackle of the dying fire.

Merlin cannot sleep, wondering what was going on between Arthur and Gwaine. He looks over at Gwaine, who is lying on the opposite side of the fire, awake, his face a mix of reddish golden shadows in the flickering light. _He's beautiful_ , Merlin thinks, and not for the first time. _Beautiful and sad, when he thinks no one sees him_.

“What is it, Gwaine?” he whispers.

Gwaine blinks at him, smiles softly. “Oh, just the usual." There's a pause, precarious in its space between the flippant comment and the quiet night. "Sex and why I’m not having it.”

It's not quite what Merlin was expecting him to say, but he's relieved. "Arthur turn you down, then?”

“It wasn’t like that,” Gwaine says, sounding serious.

“It looked like that.”

“It was meant to.”

“What?” Merlin asks, not understanding Gwaine's meaning, why he's being so stern and sad and cryptic.

Gwaine is looking up at the sky, a million stars visible on this unusually clear night. “Would you have minded? If Arthur and I were together?”

“Gwaine—”

“You don’t have to answer. I know you would have. And not on my account.”

“Gwaine—”

“It’s okay, Merlin. Really. And trust me, he’s even less inclined to let me think about being with you.”

“With me?”

“Of course you.”

Merlin isn’t used to this Gwaine, direct, yes, and earnest, yes, but never at the same time. He’s not sure what to do, especially with Arthur lying a few feet away. “Stop,” he says, genuinely wanting to end the discussion.  

“It doesn’t matter. Anyone can see what’s between you, and even though you’re the best thing I could ever imagine, I’d never deserve you.”

“Gwaine, what are you—”

“And to be honest, crazy as it might seem, I’d rather see you with him.”

“What, what nonsense are you talking? I know there wasn’t mead in your waterskin.”

“I mean it. We all think about it, but I think I care about it the most. I’m also the most brazen, and let’s face it, utterly shameless, I don’t mind admitting. I can even lay here right now and think about the two of you, sneaking into each other’s bedrolls on hunting trips and campaigns with me and the knights all around. Think about how you must already know his body so well, how to touch him and coax him, how to stroke him just right—so it’s quiet enough for us not to hear, but your spit-soaked hand on him just noisy enough to get you good and hard, too.”

Merlin can no longer breathe, let alone speak to tell Gwaine to shut up, and his cock is filling quickly at this unexpected turn of the conversation. He feels tension among all three of them, even Arthur, who lays between them with his back to the fire, but maybe he’s just imagining it. Arthur did seem to be sleeping.

“Sometimes, I think how he makes you take him in his mouth—that beautiful bow of a mouth, Merlin, and I hope he worships it like he should—his cock pushing in and out between those lips, and you just taking it all the way to the back of your throat, sucking around your own moans, your eyes tearing with the strain and pleasure of it, one of your hands in your own pants, because how could you not while sucking off the golden prince? He’s gorgeous, and that fat cock of his, and you catching his scent in the hair at the base of his cock, _gods_. And when he finally comes, pulsing down your throat, how he must be choking on his own breaths because it’s so good, because I bet you get him off better than the best royal whore ever could, because he’s wanted you so, so badly, all the time, that even the thought of your pretty mouth around him, that raven head bobbing up and down as you lick and suck and pull at his shaft is enough to make him come. Make me come.”

There’s a small, abrupt movement from beneath Arthur’s blanket, and Gwaine stops to look over, to see if Arthur will turn around, acknowledge what he’s doing.

He doesn’t.

Even in the low light of the fire, Gwaine can see the lust shadowing all of Merlin’s features. His jaw is slack, cheeks and neck flushed deep red, and his darkened eyes move from Gwaine to Arthur and back again. He nods ever so slightly, and Gwaine continues.

“He’s thought about buggering you even more than he’s thought about you sucking his cock. He imagines how he’d use his fingers to tease you, slick you up with oil he’s told you he needs from Gaius. And he thinks about pressing in and out of your hole with those royal fingers while he sucks on that swan neck of yours, and you beg for more pressure, more heat, more Arthur.”

Merlin moans, finally giving in to his cock that’s been aching for attention, because there is no way Gwaine isn’t already stroking himself, and if Arthur is awake, well, he hasn’t stopped Gwaine, which is good as wanting him to keep going.  

Merlin sort of hopes Arthur is awake, hopes that if Arthur never has thought about Merlin in this way, that at least he would have to now. Have to, at least for this one bizarre night in the woods, with Gwaine leading them through all of Merlin’s fantasies—and some of Gwaine's too, apparently.

“Yeah,” Merlin says on a breath, encouraging Gwaine.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he agrees. “More. You want more from Arthur, always, and he’s just been waiting, waiting all this time for you to beg him like this, make it so he can’t refuse, can’t leave you aching for him to fill you up, to pin you to his bed, sweating and thrusting into you, telling you how good you feel, how tight and slick and hot, and how you’re _his_ , always _his_. And it’s all the both of you want.”

 _It’s all the both of us want_ , Merlin thinks, his hand stroking himself faster now, loud enough that there can be no doubt what he’s doing, but he doesn’t care. Arthur must know how he feels about him, that he wants this, and even if he doesn’t, he’d have to be dead not to be affected by Gwaine’s filthy talk if he's awake. _Dead_.

“Gwaine,” Merlin pants.

And it's that, it's the _name_ that gets Arthur to turn around, give away that he's awake and listening and _reacting_ now, and Merlin’s eyes flick to him. Arthur looks ravaged, and nothing’s even happened yet. It makes Merlin whimper, almost, with Arthur’s eyes on him like that. He squeezes his cock to try quell it, at least a little, but it doesn’t work.

He looks over at Gwaine, sees the slow movement of Gwaine’s hand on himself, lazy, almost. He doesn’t know how the man can be so leisurely in his wanking, how he can even speak, let alone keep weaving this filthy story. He figures this just must be what it’s like in Gwaine’s mind all the time, so it affects him less.

Merlin feels bolder now that it's no secret what he’s doing, what Gwaine is doing to him, to them, maybe. He gets up, his trousers barely hanging on around his hips, his hand cupped over his erection. He walks to Gwaine, who looks up at him, oddly surprised, and he lies down.

Gwaine leans over Merlin, as if to kiss him, but he looks at Arthur first. Merlin doesn’t know what he sees there—his back is to Arthur—but he’s glad that whatever it is, it’s enough for Gwaine to actually go ahead and kiss him, open-mouthed and wet, their bodies pressing together.

Merlin moans into the kiss, gripping at Gwaine’s hair and lifting his hips up to meet Gwaine's. Gwaine’s body is sinuous and sexy, his movements as fluid as when he’s fighting, but slower and more sensual, as if he was born to relish the intimacy.

Gwaine lifts Merlin shirt over his head, and then takes off his own. Merlin lets his hands roam over Gwaine’s muscled chest, down around the taut muscles of his waist, and he bends his left leg up and around Gwaine’s. He’s never been this close to anyone this fit—not just a knight, but the _hottest_ knight, apart from Arthur—and he wants to appreciate every part of this miraculous body. Gwaine kisses him again, deeply, his tongue reaching almost as deep as he said Arthur’s cock would, and Merlin is in heaven.

In heaven, but with Arthur watching, which Merlin remembers every few seconds. Gwaine feels too good to let go of, and Gwaine loves him, Merlin knows, loves him and wants him and is willing to tell filthy stories in front of the prince just to make clear how he feels about Merlin, about both of them, somehow, and they can do with that what they will.

He realizes Gwaine would’ve let them all just wank in their bedrolls and go to sleep, or let them tell him to shut the fuck up before it even got that far, but they hadn’t. Merlin had even decided he’d take some action, if he could, and he could right now.

He wonders what Arthur will decide.

He looks over his shoulder at Arthur, his body still arched against Gwaine’s.

Arthur is propped up on his elbow, staring at them with eyes like daggers, his expression stormy. Merlin flinches at it at first, but then sees something else there—sadness or restraint, hurt, _something_ —and he reaches his hand out. “Arthur” he whispers. He hopes he will come. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he doesn’t.  

Gwaine loosens his hold on Merlin, letting him gaze more properly at Arthur. Arthur finally gets up on his knees, crawls over to them, his trousers lost in his bedroll somewhere, his cock hard and hanging heavy between his thighs.       

He reaches them and slides down behind Merlin, pushing Merlin’s trousers off as he goes. His cock pushes between Merlin’s arse cheeks. He cups Merlin’s jaw with one hand, tilting Merlin's face back towards his.

Merlin leans into Arthur, trying to convey with the pressure everything he is feeling for him, that Arthur is everything, _everything_ to him, and even Gwaine knows that.

Arthur’s fingers caress Merlin’s jaw, and his eyes search Merlin’s for a breathless moment.

Almost inaudibly, Arthur finally asks, “You want this?”

His fingertips are impossibly soft on Merlin’s jaw, like it is the most precious thing they have ever touched, and it's what keeps Merlin from snickering at the foolishness of the question. He’s lying there, sandwiched naked between the two of them, living out a fantasy he had never dreamed of (of each of them separately, sure, but this?), but Arthur looks needy and worse, worried, and it would break Merlin’s heart if he wasn't made of love for Arthur. He swallows his laugh, his throat so dry it has to work through the lump of it, and his lips part slowly to utter his, “Yes, yes. Don't you?”

Arthur’s answer is a flick of his eyes to Merlin’s lips, a kiss to the corner of Merlin’s mouth, then another at his bottom lip, then another and then a tiny nibble on it, until Merlin takes over with a hungry, unabashed kiss that he adds a throaty moan of “Arthur” to, and then “Arthur,” again.  

Gwaine releases his hold of Merlin altogether, but Merlin doesn’t let his body turn away. He keeps one hand on Gwaine’s chest, and one grazing Arthur’s temple as they kiss. His neck is exposed to Gwaine’s gaze, and soon he feels Gwaine lick wet kisses there, as if they belong there. Merlin is trying to gain more friction at his groin, too, he’s so impossibly turned on, but Gwaine is not pushing back as he had been.

He feels calloused fingers graze his cock, and he moans again into Arthur’s mouth, hitching his hips into the loose fist. He realizes from the angle that it is Arthur’s hand, and he wants—no, needs—to see it. He breaks the kiss to look, and sure enough, Arthur’s hand is there gaining a better hold of Merlin's cock, and then noticing Gwaine’s, too. Arthur’s fingers snake out to take Gwaine also,stroking their cocks together, and it's the most exquisite thing Merlin has ever felt. “Oh, _god_ ,” Merlin pants, watching in awe, and feeling so many sensations, none of them coming from his own hand for once.

It’s amazing, but before he can really lose himself to it, Gwaine pulls Arthur’s hand away and up to Merlin’s mouth. Merlin realizes quickly enough the loss was for the greater good, and he devotes himself to licking at Arthur’s fingers, sucking them and letting his saliva run down them and into Arthur's palm.

Behind him, Arthur is nudging his face into the hollow of Merlin’s neck, placing kisses there between stuttered breaths, still sliding his cock between Merlin’s arsecheeks. “ _Merlin_ ,” he moans, his voice dusky with want, wanting _Merlin_ , and the knowledge of it makes Merlin work all the harder at fucking Arthur's hand with his mouth, then finally putting it back on his and Gwaine’s cocks.

“Arthur?” Merlin asks. “Do you want . . . what Gwaine said, do you want that?”

“Shhh,” Arthur tries to quiet him.

“I mean, is it just right now, or do you want it, want me? Either way, ‘s‘fine,” he says, even though it's not.  

Arthur dips his head low again and breathes the words, harsh, into Merlin’s neck, “ _Want you_.” He’s thrusting hard and stroking their cocks, and Merlin stops worrying. “Okay.”

Gwaine extracts himself from their tangle of limbs. The action on Merlin’s cock gets more focused, but he missed the press of Gwaine’s body against his.  

Arthur lays him on his back, though, lays on top of him, kissing him and caressing his face more lovingly than Merlin would have expected.

Gwaine comes back quickly, slides a vial into Arthur’s hand, and leans back on his elbows.

Arthur looks over at him. “Are you kidding?”

“Do you not want it?”

“You really expected this to happen?”

“Was inevitable, really.”

Merlin laughs beneath Arthur. “Gwaine does tell a good story.”

Arthur shuts him up with another kiss, then pulls back again. “We’re not doing this with you here.”

“You wouldn’t do it without me here.”

They're all quiet for a moment, acknowledging the truth of it, or wondering if they will do it.

“I don’t mind,” Merlin finally offers, his voice low, unsure how Arthur will take it.

“I don’t think Arthur does either,” Gwaine says, and that seems to decide it. Arthur sits up and opens the vial.

Merlin doesn’t ask what Gwaine means by that exactly, or how he knows it. It doesn’t really matter, though. Something about being seen, about all of this being out of their hands a little bit, as everything else with them has been, makes it easier, makes it almost more right. He doesn’t think he and Arthur would ever have done this without Gwaine’s help.

Merlin rolls over and lays on his stomach, pushing their discarded clothes under his hips. He can feel Arthur’s hands already massaging his arse cheeks as he straddles him, and he can’t believe this is happening. “Oh, my god,” he says.

“You okay?” Arthur asks, his hands smoothing over his skin.

“Yeah.”

“You’ve . . . you’ve done this before?”

“Not . . . not in a long time.”

“Okay,” Arthur says, his massaging getting more intense, his fingers grazing Merlin's puckered hole, slickening it with every pass.

When a finger breaches him, it’s not too bad, but on the second one, Merlin keens a little, and Arthur presses the flat of his other hand to the small of his back, a centering and calming presence, princely somehow, and very Arthur, and Merlin swoons at that gesture more than the fingers moving inside him.

“You're so tight, Merlin, I can’t . . . ”

Arthur is rutting against the back of Merlin’s thighs as he adds another finger, and Merlin has to see his face. Over his shoulder, Arthur looks thirsty, and hungry, so full of need that he's just staring down at Merlin through hooded eyes, one hand pressing on his back, rolling his hips, and his other hand, which Merlin can’t see beyond the flexing wrist, obscenely spreading him in the middle of the woods, in front of Gwaine.

Merlin turns to Gwaine, who is sitting near Merlin’s head, watching the two of them, one hand firmly wrapped at the base of his cock, the other rolling his bollocks.

 _Holy shit_ , Merlin thinks. _Holy shit_.

He looks back at Arthur, who might nod in response, but Merlin can’t tell really, he’s so focused on what he was doing, so Merlin just turns back to Gwaine. “C’mere,” he says.  

Gwaine tilts his head, not expecting the address. “What? No, I just want to watch you two.”

“No, Gwaine, please. Come here.”

“Gwaine,” Arthur says, and Merlin sees Arthur nod—definitely this time—at Gwaine, which somehow no one expected, and Gwaine scoots closer. Merlin pulls Gwaine’s legs on either side of him, and he looks up, curious about Gwaine’s expression.

Gwaine is shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “I’d be crazy to turn this down,” he says. “But you still don’t have to. It should just be you two.”

Merlin smiles back. “Prince’s orders,” he shrugs, and licks a wet circle around the head of Gwaine’s cock.

Gwaine hisses in response, his stomach and thigh muscles tightening. Merlin can almost feel Gwaine’s toes curl in the blanket, and he sinks down over Gwaine’s whole length, encouraged by the effects of his technique.  

Arthur collapses onto Merlin’s back then, three fingers buried in Merlin’s arse, but needing to look over Merlin’s shoulder, watch Merlin’s lips on Gwaine’s cock, his tongue swiping around the shaft and finally taking Gwaine deep down his throat, going faster with it while his fingers roll his balls, as Gwaine had been doing to himself.

“ _Fuck_ , Merlin,” Arthur says. He lets his fingers plunge in and out of Merlin's arse at the pace of Merlin’s sucking, and then it’s too much, even for him. “I have to . . . I have to have you. Can I have you?”

Merlin turns his head to look at Arthur, a thread of saliva trailing from his wrecked mouth to Gwaine’s swollen cock. He squints at him, smirking, and asks, “What do you think?”

Arthur wastes no more time. He props himself back up behind Merlin, lining up his cock with Merlin’s hole, and presses in, slowly, slowly, and only part of the way. Merlin doesn’t want to risk Gwaine’s cock with this, so he gives it one last lick, then puts his head down into the blanket to wait out the sting of the stretch in his arse, and he feels Arthur’s weight on him again.

“You okay? I’ve got you, I've got you,” he is muttering into Merlin’s skin as his hips move slowly up and down, coaxing Merlin's hole to take his cock deeper and deeper, until he’s finally seated all the way, and he exhales shakily.

He lays over Merlin entirely, his lips pressed into Merlin’s hair. “ _Love you_ ,” he whispers, so quietly Merlin is sure Gwaine can’t have heard, even though he knows Gwaine knows anyway.

Gwaine pulls away from the two of them, letting them enjoy each other. His heart is a little broken, as always, but it's also a lot full. And he's  _a lot_ turned on, as Arthur finally starts to actually fuck Merlin instead of restraining himself with cooing and tenderness (not that Merlin should have anything less).

Arthur pulls Merlin up onto his knees and keeps his hands on Merlin’s hips, snapping them back into his groin on every thrust, which has Merlin grunting out breaths in the same rhythm, and it's hotter than anything Gwaine has ever heard. He sees Arthur’s cock, fat and hard, sliding out and slamming into Merlin again and again, sees Merlin’s cock, full and leaking and neglected beneath his stomach. Gwaine lets himself wank more properly now, now that he can tell they're truly lost in each other.

Arthur pulls out suddenly, leaving Merlin whimpering. “What hap—” Merlin is saying, but Arthur is already flipping him over.

“Want to see you,” Arthur huffs out, sliding back in easily as he leans over Merlin, claiming his mouth with a kiss, then kissing his nose and his forehead and his hair. He’s given over to this, Gwaine can see, to lavishing Merlin with kisses and love and desire, and Gwaine feels like he's done good.  

Arthur leans up again to get a better angle, one hand on Merlin’s chest for leverage, and maybe to graze at a nipple, the other finally finding Merlin’s cock, aching, Gwaine knows, to be touched.  

“So beautiful, so good,” Arthur is panting, the snap of his hips and bollocks against Merlin’s arse loud and wet in the quiet of the night. “I’m gonna . . . Merlin . . . ” and Arthur groans, long, his hips pulsing out of rhythm now with the waves of his orgasm. Merlin takes to pumping his own cock, Arthur being too far gone, and cries out after him, his spend shooting onto his chest in long strings.

And that is what does it, finally, for Gwaine, seeing Merlin’s face as he comes with Arthur's cock inside him, Arthur’s name on his lips. He looks the way Merlin deserves to look, well and thoroughly fucked, and loved and happy. Gwaine lets his fist speed up, his wrist flick on the upstrokes in just the right way, and he clenches his eyes shut, wanting just to _feel_ it now, now that he’s seen it all through.

 _Gods_ , it's good, and he comes hard, then flops down on his back, feeling better than he has in ages.

He hears Merlin chuckle a little, and he picks up his head up to look over. Sure enough, Merlin is looking at him, laughing, but fondly. Gwaine smiles back, then looks down at Arthur, already asleep, most likely, his arms around Merlin’s waist, his head on his stomach. Merlin’s hand lays in Arthur's hair, and it looks like it belongs there, like they all belong exactly there, and they sleep.


End file.
